To Live with Death in Mind

This morning as I backed out of my drive and drove away to work, I glanced over at my house. My mind jumped instantly to the thought, "I wonder what Donna was thinking about as she drove away from the house on that last day." (For those who do not know me or who have not read this blog before, my late wife, Donna, died in a automobile accident in 2008.)

My mind turned to contemplation. First the old: do we live for the moment or do we live in the moment?

Then, I started wondering: if we knew that we would die in the next few minutes, hours, or days, what would we spend time thinking about. Would we dwell on hurt, disappointment, anger, jealousy, and pain? Would we live in the past, whether sad or joyful? Would we continue to allow our frustrations to dominate us?

Or...would we notice the beauty around us? Would we relish this moment? Would we contemplate love and goodness?

I actually tried some of this on my drive in to work. I noticed the water-color appearance of the clouds against the sky, even the stark crispness of leafless trees etched against that same sky. Then, there were the evergreens holding on to their needles in contrast to their naked neighbors. And, of course, I had to be grateful that the sun was not in my eyes! It actually became a more pleasant drive.

Seems to me the scripture even speaks to this:

Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things. (Philippians 4:8 KJV)

Wow! So, dying or not, our thoughts should be consumed with the good stuff of life and not bogged down with the bad.

Now, I'm not sure that our thoughts will change how we die, but I am convinced that our thoughts can change how we live. Can you imagine the possibilities?

Catharsis and Prayer

She was not there, but I was.

11:30 a.m., the time on her death certificate, two years ago on October 1, 2008.

Because of a wedding in the family, I was able to visit the cemetery in Bluefield, VA, on this anniversary of her death. Before arriving, I was not sure what my emotions, my thoughts, would be. But, here I was...

First, cleaning off the marker and throwing away the old flowers: both ours and her mom's. There were no flowers at our site, just a pot full of water and old styrofoam - it had been a while since I had been able to come.

Then, the new flowers came out - her mom's first, then her's.

During this process there was talk, obviously one-sided. And, of course, I knew she was not there. In fact, I don't believe she could even hear what I was saying. God is so good that I know in my heart that He shields her from every hint of the pain and sorrow that dogged her life here on earth. Perhaps if there was something good, He would share it, but I feel that she doesn't know of or feel even my pain, and that is very good!!

But, I talked. I talked about the wedding, about Abby, about me. Whatever came to mind, I just talked.

At times, knowing that only God could truly hear the words, the feelings, the pain, the talk shifted into prayer.

I stayed longer this time, partially because I wanted to be there at that exact moment that marked the time of her earthly departure, but also because the talk came easily. And, even the quietness and solitude felt good.

Near the end of my visit, I just sat on the nearby statuary (a statue of our Lord kneeling and praying in the Garden of Gethsemane before His own trial and death), and just contemplated.

It occurred to me that what I was doing wasn't solving any of the worlds problems; it wasn't even solving any of mine. But, then I thought...most of those problems are really not that important after all - perspective!

It was a good time! Catharsis and prayer! Amen!